I am not really the kind of person who bullies anyone. I don’t attack people just because they make me mad.
Or eat their noose boogie. Or fart and find it funny.
I attack when they eye my chicken legs.
I’m quite the peaceful tolerant person. And that totally doesn’t work in kindergarten. Or nursery. Or school. Or college. Or camp night.
My tryst with the painful experience of being bludgeoned happened during nursery.
Ah. Those days.
I hated them. (>_>)
If Eric Cartman had ponytails OR you can say was a girl, that would exactly be how the girl looked who would save me a seat next to her everyday.
You would think that’s sweet. So did I.
She would gaze at me while I would draw houses made of Jell-O.
And every other day when I would be in those blissful moments of being lost in my own world which by the way the teacher thought was moments when I was secretly and inexpressively pissing in my pants,
From no where.
She would move her jiggly arms.
And do a blitzkrieg pinch attack on me!
And I swear it was no silly pinch. The bacteria surrounding the pinched area would be wiped out clean and the non terror hit area would be emptied just as quickly.
It was a regular thing. On complaining to our teacher who was obsessed about pronouncing the word “Bear” as “baay” instead of “bair”, she told me it’s tough love.
Tough love my ass.
So I asked my mom to explain tough love, who said,
“It’s when a person doesn’t express the positive feelings.”
“What about expressing torturous feelings?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Uh. Nothing. Just….constipation.”
(I fight my fights alone!)
So based on her advice it wasn’t tough love going on here. My invisible friend Ann agreed on the same and we launched a plan. I had read in one of those colorful books about defense weapons and that every living thing has one or more.
I knew I had some too. Having a sibling makes the discovery faster and honing those weapons more easier.
So the next day, as usual when fatso Emily Cartman saved a seat for me, I jumped for it.
Actually I walked to it but then chalk-eater boy sitting in front of me had laid chalks on the floor and I tripped on ’em. (>_<)
And then I saw it.
She was there. I was there. Her hand moving slowly towards me.
I could see how her fat wiggles like Jell-O in extra slow motion.
BAM! Just as she was about to pinch me, I got my defensive weapons out and went for the onslaught.
I bit the heck out of her. I didn’t care if I had plunked out hair from her hand and consumed it. After all what’s a war with no casualties?
It was a moment of victory for me. I could see the sun shining on my face. The glory of that independence brings with itself.
Followed by the PTA meeting where discussions about my man-slaughtering behavior was etched upon and how it was necessary to purify my inner demon.
No cookies for two whole weeks. But that’s okay ’cause I have the ultimate blitzkrieg weapon now.